


Love letters and assorted mementos

by Kiraly



Category: A Redtail's Dream (Webcomic), Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-17 17:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16978851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: In light of Tumblr's current state of chaos, I'm going through my blog to find all the miscellaneous bits of writing I've stashed there over the years. Since I don't want to spam everyone with a million little fics all at once, I'm collecting them into a few larger fics with multiple chapters. I have one for platonic/family relationships,Scattered bits of light and shadow, and one for Emil/Lalli ficlets specifically because there are so many -Vignettes. This one is for other SSSS and aRTD romantic pairings. Once I've uploaded them all I'll make an index in the first chapter notes so you can jump to chapters with the specific pairing you want.





	1. Spring Vigil (Onni/Reynir)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Index:**  
>  Chapter 1: Spring Vigil (Reynir/Onni). Angst and introspection  
> Chapter 2: Salt the bread with your tears (Hannu/Joona). Flirting, a bit of pining with a happy ending.  
> Chapter 3: Not the twin I meant to kiss (Jonna/Riikka & Joona). An accidental kiss, and the promise of a better one.  
> Chapter 4: The worst way to wake up (Hannu/Joona). The aftermath of a drunken night, public nudity.  
> Chapter 5: In Defense of Your Butt (Agneta/Sigrun). Flirting in the wake of a troll attack.  
> Chapter 6: We Keep Meeting (Crossover - Ensi/Oona). A series of encounters in the dream world  
> Chapter 7: Mental Notes From A Finn (Ensi/Rúna). Alternate POV of a scene from _Field Notes From Finland_ \- Ensi muses on the dangers of beautiful women.  
> Chapter 8: Speechless (Reynir/Tuuri). Kissing with some bittersweet notes. Canon-divergent (Tuuri lives!) AU  
> Chapter 9: Palm Trees (Reynir/Tuuri). Kissing, shameless fluff. Canon-divergent (Tuuri lives!) AU  
> Chapter 10: Dark After Dreams (Bjarni/Onni). Mentions of PTSD, bad dreams, implied sex. Canon-divergent (Tuuri lives!) AU  
> Chapter 11: Now That You're Here (Hannu/Ville). Sickfic  
> Chapter 12: Fever Dreams (Reynir/Sigrun). Sickfic, dream walking and delirium.

Onni/Reynir - walls

In spite of the trees, Reynir couldn’t help going back. Every night he sat there, ear pressed against rough bark, imagining he could hear Onni breathing on the other side.

“I get it now,” he said once, after a hard day of walking. “Wanting to stay safe. You were only trying to protect them.” The tree trunks, slender but strong, were knit so close he could hardly see their edges. Reynir remembered living like that.

“But I wonder…you’re all alone. Who will keep you safe from yourself?”

Overhead, a crack formed between branches. Sound carried through, and someone listened.


	2. Salt the bread with your tears (Hannu/Joona)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt: Hannu/Joona - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to / Don't cry  
> Rating: Teen for language

“That’s it for me, I’m heading out.” Hannu dropped a final tray of loaves on the counter and dusted flour from his hands.

Joona looked up from the sink, where he was elbow-deep in soapy water and mixing bowls. “Already? I thought you were here until close.” Not that he made it a point to memorize Hannu’s schedule, or the dates when their hours aligned. Of course not.

Hannu pulled his apron off and hung it on the peg. “Nah. I was supposed to, but Jonna switched with me so she could go on a date tomorrow night.” He glanced at the door to the public side of the bakery, saw that Jonna was busy helping a customer, and sidled over. “Why? Are you gonna miss me?” His elbow brushed Joona’s ribs as he reached for the faucet to rinse his hands. “Don’t cry, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Joona snorted. “Oh yeah, I’ll be sobbing in a minute. Good thing I’m just washing dishes, or all the bread would be salty tomorrow.” He bumped his hip against Hannu’s and took the faucet back to rinse a bowl. “Asshole.”

“Idiot.”

“Slacker.”

“Drudge.”

The smirk on Hannu’s face took the sting from the insults, and Joona knew he was smiling too. That was how it was between them–no sappy declarations or flowery bullshit. It was just…what they’d always had, but subtly different. Mostly, Joona was glad for that. He didn’t feel like explaining himself, his  _feelings,_ to anyone just yet. It was easier to act like nothing had changed.

But as Hannu turned to go, he couldn’t help wishing it was easier to talk about…things. Like coordinating schedules, so they could have the same nights free. “So I guess you’re working late tomorrow, then?” Joona asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Mmhmm.” Hannu was in the middle of pulling his coat on, so Joona almost missed his reply. “Why?”

“Nothing. Just–forget it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was pointless to say he’d looked forward to walking Hannu home tonight, with the excuse of stretching his legs. Pointless to say he’d harbored thoughts of what they could do tomorrow with a free evening. Even if he knew how to say it, he didn’t think he could get the words out.

Hannu hesitated by the door for a minute, then shrugged. “Okay then. See you.”

Joona went back to his dishes and tried not to think of anything but soapy water and scrubbing. But his frustration remained long after the last of the suds went down the drain.

* * *

The front doors were locked, and Jonna had dumped the last of her sweeping into the trash. Now all that was left was for Joona to take the trash out, and he’d be free for what remained of the evening. With a sigh, he dragged the bins out the door. And stopped, confused, because Hannu was there, leaning against a tree.

“Hey.” Hannu straightened up. “Took you long enough. I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Uh…hi.” Joona shifted his weight and stayed where he was, uncertain. “What are you…doing here?”

Hannu looked down at his feet, digging a hole in the snow with his right boot. “I…wondered if you wanted to do something. I mean, I started thinking that you might have wanted to, before I switched with Jonna.” He hunched his shoulders. “It was probably a stupid thought. But. If you did…well. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Mess up your plans, if you had them. Shit, this is awful.” He turned away.

“Wait!” Joona left the trash behind and ran toward him. “I’m glad you came.” He reached out and caught Hannu’s arm. Hannu stopped, and finally looked up to meet Joona’s eyes. “I’m glad,” Joona repeated. “And I’d like to do something. If you want.” He slid his hand down until it met Hannu’s, and slid their fingers together. He gave Hannu’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Hannu returned the pressure, and smirked. “Okay. Walk me home?”

Joona nodded, and they set off in companionable silence. There were still things that had to be said, but there would be time for it later. For now, this was enough.


	3. Not the twin I meant to kiss (Jonna/Riikka)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a Synchronised Screaming prompt.  
> Jonna/Riikka & Joona - kissing the wrong twin  
> Teen rating. (A bit of kissing, and accidentally kissing the wrong person - but it all works out in the end).

Really, it was all Joona’s fault for shaving that  _stupid_ beard. He’d said he was “just trying it out” - which is also what he’d said when he first started growing it and they all made fun of him - but its absence made him look even more like Jonna. Especially when both of them had their hair pulled back for work, and were still in their uniforms. Especially when all of them were a little drunk from celebrating the twins’ birthday, and the hallway to the bathroom was dimly lit, and - 

“Whoa!” Even before he said it, Riikka knew she’d made a critical error. He might have shaved, but only one Kuikka twin could grow stubble. And twins or not, kissing him wasn’t the same as kissing Jonna.

“Ohmygod I’msosorry” Riikka’s words came out in in a jumble that was only partly due to intoxication. “I thought Jonna came back here, and then you were there and - “

‘And what?” 

_Oh, shit._

_Now_ Jonna was there, walking up behind her twin with a puzzled expression. “What happened? Riikka’s beet red, and you…” She looked at her twin quizzically. “You’re actually speechless. That  _never_ happens!”

Joona blinked. "Um.”

“I’m so sorry!” Riikka flung herself at Jonna and clasped her hands. “I was going to surprise you, but it was dark and I saw Joona and…” she couldn’t say it. She had to say it. “I kind of…kissed him.”

“You  _what?”_ Jonna looked at Joona again, and whatever she saw in his face convinced her. “Oh my god, you  _did!_ Joona, what did we say about sharing significant others?”

Joona shook his head, still staring at Riikka, then seemed to snap out of it. “Not to, obviously. It’s against the twin code.” He folded his arms over his chest. “And like, no offense Riikka, but even without that, I don’t think the two of us would work out.” He made a face. “Blech.”

“I’m so sorry, I really am…”

“But since you did kiss her,” Jonna continued, “Now you have to pick up my early shift tomorrow. Twin code demands it!”

“What!” Joona glared. “It wasn’t my fault, she kissed me!”

“And if you hadn’t shaved your beard, she wouldn’t have,” Jonna said. She waved him off. “All your fault, really. That’s what you get for trying to be as pretty as I am.”

Joona rolled his eyes and went back to the party. Riikka clung to Jonna’s hand. “I really am sorry. I don’t know how I could have mistaken him for you. If there’s any way I can make it right–”

Jonna laughed again. “It’s okay, love. I’m not mad at you, or at Joona.” She laced her hands behind Riikka’s head and grinned. “But if you want to make up for it, I can think of some ways.”

“Yeah?” Riikka tilted her head toward Jonna.

“Yeah.” But Jonna held a finger to Riikka’s lips, blocking the kiss. “After you rinse your mouth out, that is. You  _did_ just kiss my brother.”


	4. The Worst Way To Wake Up (Hannu/Joona)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Synchronised Screaming prompt - Hannu/Joona - Woke up naked

“What the  _fuck_ happened last night?” Hannu’s head was pounding too hard to make opening his eyes worth it, but he could tell several things were off. First of all, he was  _not_ in his bed–it was far too bright, and the hard surface under him was gritty and cold. Secondly, and most important, he could  _feel_ that because he wasn’t wearing anything.  _Shit. Not again_.

And then everything got worse.

“Hell if I know. Lots of booze?” Joona sounded as awful as Hannu felt. Hannu’s eyes flew open. Yep, Joona was right there next to him, and he’d fallen victim to last night’s whatever-it-was too. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the nudity, though. “Morning, sunshine. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Hannu groaned and rolled away. “Fuck you, man. Don’t look at me.” He winced as a rock dug into his hip. They were by the lake, sprawled on a rock overlooking the water. At least it wasn’t the public beach, that was a relief. Unfortunately, their clothes were nowhere to be seen.

“Guess we’re in for a fun walk home,” Joona said, stretching.

“Next time someone suggests board games and shots,” Hannu said, “I’m saying no.”


	5. In Defense of Your Butt (Agneta/Sigrun)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Synchronised Screaming prompt (should I even bother continuing to say that?)
> 
> Agneta/Sigrun - "You saved my butt out there!" "It'd be a shame if anything happened to your butt".

The train engine started up again at last, which meant most of the crew could finally take a break. Agneta didn’t even bother dragging herself all the way to the crew car before collapsing.

“You’re looking a little worse for the wear, train lady.” The speaker sounded almost as tired as she felt.

Agneta cracked one eye open to glare at Sigrun. “Excuse me, did you forget how many trolls we just fought? Sorry if I’m not dressed and ready for a parade.” Her uniform was stained with sweat and troll gore; she’d have to change and decontaminate before she resumed her duties. Of course, the troll hunter captain didn’t look much better. One of her tunic sleeves had a long tear in it, and Agneta saw a bandage peeking through.

Sigrun didn’t seem bothered by her injury, though. “Oh, sure, but it was all in a day’s work, right? We didn’t lose anyone, just got a couple of scratches.” She flopped down next to Agneta and plucked her hat off, perching it on her own head at a jaunty angle. “I could get used to a gig like this. Think the Swedes would hire me on?”

“You?” The idea was laughable. Although it was definitely nice to have someone with Sigrun’s experience around in the event of an attack, that wasn’t actually the main part of this job. “I don’t know, how do you feel about customer service? You have to give people directions and listen to their complaints, you can’t just stab them.”

“Huh. Sounds like dealing with a batch of new recruits every day. Well, except for the stabbing. That happens sometimes.” Sigrun’s mouth twisted and she shook her head. “Maybe I’ll just stick to my job, and let you stick to yours.” She shifted down to lay her head on Agneta’s lap. “Would have been nice though, seeing more of each other.” There was a wistful note to her voice.

Agneta sighed and took her hat back so she could run her fingers through Sigrun’s hair. “Yeah. And it was good to have you here for this. You saved my butt out there.” It was like that every time; when Sigrun rode her train, there always seemed to be trouble. And inevitably, Sigrun helped her out of it.

Sigrun grinned. “Well, it’d be a shame if anything happened to your butt.” She reached up to cup Agneta’s chin. “The trolls can’t have it, I’ve got dibs.”

A laugh burst out of Agneta, tired though she was. “Oh yeah?” She leaned down, and Sigrun rose to meet her. “Are you gonna stake your claim, then?”

Instead of answering, Sigrun kissed her hard enough to leave her flat on her back. “Was that a request?”

It took a minute for Agneta to get her breath back. “Tempting. But maybe we should wait until we get to Mora.” She made no move to get up though, and didn’t push Sigrun away. “Just in case the trolls see us and get any ideas.”

“They’d better not,” Sigrun said, yawning. She settled down with her head on Agneta’s chest. “I’ll fight ‘em all.”

“My hero,” Agneta murmured. A distant part of her was aware that it was horribly unprofessional to fall asleep on the floor with a passenger on top of her, but she was too tired to care. “Fighting off all the trolls in my defense.”

Sigrun’s laugh rippled through her, a pleasant harmony to the rumble of the train. “Believe me,” she said, “Your butt is worth it.”


	6. We Keep Meeting (Ensi/Oona)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Synchronised Screaming prompt fill.
> 
> Crossover: A Redtail's Dream/Stand Still Stay Silent  
> Ensi/Oona - "chance' meetings

Oona is sixteen the first time it happens. She’s in her dream haven, minding her own business, and suddenly she’s not alone.

“Why are you sad, dream lady?”

She’s on her feet in a heartbeat, reaching for a knife that won’t do much good here. But it’s not a troll, and she’s fairly sure it’s not a spirit, either. It’s a little girl. Oona forces herself to relax.

“I’m not sad, I’m tired. What are you doing here? It’s not safe.”

The child looks around at the sheltering rocks and trees of Oona’s haven. A breeze stirs her wispy pale hair. “Looks safe.”

“I mean, to get here. Is someone with you? You should stay in your safe space.” She doesn’t know much about this dream world–other than the fact that it’s real, and that things that happen here have real-world consequences. No place for wandering children.

The girl shrugs. Oona starts to ask something else, but the child’s head tilts to the side as though she’s listening. Faintly, in the distance, Oona can almost hear a voice calling.

“Uh oh. Time to go.” Without another word, the child darts away and vanishes into the mist. Oona stares into the distance for a long time, wondering if she was a spirit after all.

* * *

The second time, Oona is twenty. Old enough to have seen too many friends and loved ones die, killed because they weren’t careful enough. So she keeps her defenses raised when the girl with the fur cape shows up on the edge of her haven.

“I remember you,” the girl says. She peers at the interwoven trees and the jagged protrusions of rock, all aimed to keep her out. “This isn’t too bad. Not as good as mine, though.”

Oona snorts and doesn’t let down her guard. “Seems to work well enough for me. Who are you?” She remembers, now, the incident with the little girl four years ago. This one–not a woman yet, but sharper-edged than children ought to be–could be the same girl.

“I don’t give out my name, here,” the girl says. She lays a finger on one of Oona’s trees, and a shiver of magic runs through like a current. “I belong to the forest though, not the rash. You do too.”

The stubborn part of Oona wants to deny that; she belongs to herself, always has, and no one gets to claim her without asking. But it’s true that the trees have always called her. She’s seen a lot ever since the rash roared through the world and took away her childhood. The stories that she drank in at the winter bonfires and inhaled whenever the auroras lit the sky; they’re realer than anyone knew. She’s met gods, and cajoled them into helping her. She belongs to herself, but she is more than that.

“And why are you wandering into my dream?” Oona asks, because the girl still isn’t much older than she was when the rash hit. If she knows about the forest, she must know the danger, too.

“I look around sometimes,” the girl says. “I have to know the forest better.”

There’s no response to that, so Oona doesn’t give one. Eventually, the girl pulls her hood over her hair and continues on her way.

* * *

 

By the time Oona is thirty, she’s familiar enough with the gods’ sense of humor that she isn’t too surprised when the girl from her dreams shows up with a scouting group from a distant village. She’s grown now, the awkward jutting elbows of her childhood turned into a kind of angular grace. And she keeps herself a little apart from the others, or maybe they’re the ones keeping their distance from her. Either way, the leader of their group hesitates slightly before introducing her. “Ah, and this is Ensi Hotakainen, our mage. Ensi, this is Oona Kuikka, she’s one of the local mages we’ll be working with.”

Ensi. She has a name, then. And she has Oona’s, too, without either of them having to give it.

Oona decides to act as though this is just another introduction. “Ensi. Well met.”

Ensi doesn’t bother pretending. “Yes. We keep meeting.”

The group leader opens his mouth to ask a question, but thinks better of it when he sees Ensi’s face. He hurries off to do his liaising elsewhere.

“So you’re not just a spirit,” Oona says. “I had wondered.” Ensi’s dropped by her haven any number of times, but the wary tension between them has never gone away. It lingers now, but there’s a new quality to it.

“No. And neither are you.” Ensi fixes Oona with a look she’s seen many times before–calculating, considering–and then she appears to reach a decision. “Tonight,” she says, stepping forward to prod one slim finger into Oona’s chest. “I’ll see you then.” She turns on her heel and goes off to settle in with the rest of her group, and Oona is once again left staring after her. She sure knows how to make an exit.

* * *

That night, when Ensi shows up at Oona’s haven, the trees move aside to let her in.


	7. Mental Notes From A Finn (Ensi/Rúna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this one properly belongs in my Dreamworld Ladies series, since it's an alternate POV for a scene from [Field Notes From Finland](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9333158). But since it's also part of the Tumblr archive project, I figured I'd just drop it here. Click the link if you want context!

Gods help me, I’ve really fucked up this time.

My aunt Kaino always told me never to trust a pretty woman who offers to buy you a drink. I  _think_ she had a bad relationship, back in the Old World, and she never quite forgot it. But in this day and age, a free drink is a free drink. Especially when you live in a place like Saimaa; if you don’t drink when you’re off duty, there’s not much else to  _do._

Anyway, my aunt never said a word about beautiful women who swear like sailors and pick fights with the second-toughest person in the bar. It was the swearing that caught my attention, really. It’s been years since I heard anyone speaking Icelandic. Isä was the only one who ever used it with me, as a way to distract me from the voices and the spirits that only the two of us could see. So I was surprised to hear some foreign lady shouting all kinds of obscenities–and at Lauri of all people, who wouldn’t know an Icelandic word if it bit him in the ass. 

I would have been happy to watch–bar fights are prime entertainment around here–but the stupid foreigner got Lauri riled up enough to start throwing punches, and it was obvious to everyone that she was outmatched. And I’ll admit, I was curious. We don’t get many visitors here. We don’t get  _any_ foreign visitors. So I couldn’t really do anything else, could I? I had to step in.

I did say Lauri was the  _second_ toughest person in the bar.

Even if I couldn’t kick Lauri’s ass up and down the island (which I can) he would have backed off. It’s the perk of being a  _noita,_ practically the only one. The voices and the dreams and the frustrating bargains with the gods–they might be a lot to handle, but at least they come with a side of fear and respect from the non-mages. It’s too bad for Rúna that she didn’t know, or she could have handled Lauri herself.

That’s her name, Rúna. A more obvious mage name I’ve never heard. But she doesn’t seem to know about what it means to be a  _noita,_ because she kept asking questions about it. She can keep asking, because I’m not going to tell her. It’s private. It belongs to the gods and me and the ghost of my Isä. No beautiful red-haired foreign skald is going to change that.

That’s the whole problem, of course. She’s beautiful. And foreign, and curious, and she wants someone to guide her around and translate for her. And some fool decided to step in, play the hero, and accidentally revealed a grasp of the Icelandic language. (Not Lauri. He won’t be grasping much of anything, anytime soon.)

As for me, I get to follow an idiot foreigner all around the islands. Maybe I’ll get lucky and a troll will eat her. Maybe, if I’m luckier, I’ll get to kiss her first.

Aunt Kaino will be so disappointed in me.


	8. Speechless (Reynir/Tuuri)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Synchronised Screaming prompt.
> 
> Prompt: Tuuri/Any, rendering Tuuri speechless  
> (I chose Reynir/Tuuri)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a canon-divergent AU where Tuuri doesn't die, though at the time I wrote it I'm not sure if we knew she was going to die yet. Either way, no one is dead and everything is great.

“And I promise I’ll write every day! Or at least I’ll try to, but that could get kind of expensive to mail. Oh, I know! I’ll write every day, but only  _send_  the letters once a week, and that way you’ll get a bunch at once!”

They walk slowly down the halls of the Nordic Council headquarters, making their last day linger as long as they can. Tomorrow, Tuuri gets on a boat back to Finland, and Reynir moves to the student quarters at the mage Academy. They’ve had their time together—more of it than anticipated, more of it than they ever would have had if Reynir hadn’t been such an idiot—but the long months feel like nothing at all, in the face of their looming separation.

Reynir has been letting Tuuri do most of the talking. He’s content to hold her hand, listen to the flow of her words rising and falling like the waves that will soon take her away. He knows it’s not forever—not like it could have been, if things had gone differently in the Silent World. The higher-ups still don’t seem to believe everything that happened. Then again, if Reynir hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes, he might not have believed it either.

But none of that matters now, anyway. What matters is Tuuri’s hand in his, her voice in his ear. She’s the only person he’s ever met who likes to talk as much as he does, if not more. Between the two of them, they’ve hardly had a quiet moment. That’s all right though. Reynir likes it. It’s nice to not be the only one talking. And when he does talk, Tuuri listens, and asks questions. He knows far more about Finland than he’d ever thought possible a few months ago, and she’s been improving her grasp of Icelandic in leaps and bounds. There’s a part of him that wants to ask her—but that would be crazy, to expect her to stay here. He’ll be a student for several years yet, and then after that he’ll go off to do…whatever it is mages do. It’s one of those things that was never explained, but he’s sure someone at the Academy will know.

Tuuri, though, has no long-term plans, nothing to tie her down. She’s going back to Finland now, to take care of some family affairs before she relocates to Mora. She’s not sure how long that contract will last; it will take her at least a few months to go through all the material they’ve gathered, even with Mikkel and Torbjorn to help her. She’s said they might travel, too, to lecture about their findings. It could be years before she’s ready to settle down, if she ever wants to. Reynir both envies her the freedom, and selfishly wishes she’d find a job that would bring her to Reykjavik and keep her here.

“Reynir? Is everything all right? You’re being awfully quiet.” Tuuri squeezes his hand and looks up with a questioning expression.

They’ve reached the end of the hallway now—there’s nowhere else to go but back to their respective bedrooms to sleep. Reynir isn’t ready. He wants this moment to last forever, to stay here with Tuuri until they’re both old and wrinkled.

“Reynir?” She tugs him closer. “Hey. We’ll be okay. We can write, we can find a way to send calls through, at least once I move to Sweden. It will all work out.”

He’s never met someone who talks as much as he does, and he loves Tuuri all the more for that. But just now…he’s not sure he really wants to talk. There are other things he’d rather do, instead of standing there with the mountain of words he can’t say:  _stay, stay with me, come back to me my love_ —hovering on the tip of his tongue.

So he puts his tongue to better use, and swoops down to kiss her. He goes too fast: not hesitant and barely there, like the first time they kissed. Not long and lingering, either, the way they’d kissed over and over when it finally sank in that Tuuri really was well, that they could breathe the same air again. He wants to linger, wants to take the time for shy delicate brushes of skin against skin or drawn-out kisses to remember her by. But this is their last night together for who knows how long, and so now he kisses her with a fierce attention he didn’t know he had. It’s fast, and as soon as he pulls away he wishes he hadn’t. Was it too much? Should he have asked first? He waits for her reaction, to hear what she has to say about it.

But for once, Tuuri doesn’t say anything either. She curls her hands into fists on his collar, and pulls him in for another kiss.


	9. Palm Trees (Reynir/Tuuri)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Synchronised Screaming story.
> 
> Prompt: Reynir/Tuuri, somewhere with palm trees

“I can’t believe these are here. If I’d known…”

Tuuri laced her fingers with Reynir’s and squeezed his hand. “But if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done what you did, and we wouldn’t have met.”

He tore his gaze away from the view and smiled down at her, squeezing her fingers in return. The humid warmth of the greenhouse made the loose tendrils of his hair stick to his face. Tuuri wanted to reach up to brush them aside—but if she did that, she’d end up caressing his face, and then they’d get wrapped up in each other instead of seeing what they came to see.  _Plenty of time to make out later,_ she chided herself.

“That’s a good point,” Reynir said, chuckling. “I’m glad things worked out so we could meet. The whole crew, of course, but…especially you.”

Tuuri felt herself blushing, and turned away in a vain effort to conceal it. There was plenty to look at besides the soft green eyes and riot of red hair, those scattered freckles and the pale hollow of his throat—yes. Lots to see. Like the lush greenery surrounding them, plants with broad waxy leaves and names she couldn’t pronounce. Flowers, too, in vivid colors she’d never seen in Keuruu. And of course, the reason they were here in the first place, stretching tall enough it seemed they must touch the glass ceiling: palm trees.

“They’re really beautiful, aren’t they?” she asked, stepping forward to touch one of the trunks. “I can see why you went looking for one.”

“Beautiful,” Reynir agreed. He was looking at Tuuri though, not the trees. “And right here, in Reykjavik. It’s almost like magic, isn’t it?”

“Magic? I guess so.” More like engineering and botany, but Tuuri didn’t want to burst his bubble. He’d been dreaming of palm trees for so long; now that they were actually seeing them, she wondered if it was everything he’d hoped for. “So tell me…are these worth going all the way to the Silent World for? Even though you didn’t see them until you came home?”

Reynir pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “The palm trees? No, they’re nice, but I wouldn’t face ghosts and trolls to see them again. They’re not  _that_ great.” He rested his chin on her head. “But you are.”

Tuuri turned in the circle of his arms. “So are you,” she said, pressing a kiss to his chin. Reynir laughed, and the next kiss drove all thoughts of palm trees from both of their minds.


	10. Dark after dreams (Bjarni/Onni)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ficlet originally posted to Tumblr - self-indulgent Onni/Bjarni stuff. Here's the original notes from Tumblr:
> 
>  
> 
> _I’ve been having a hard time focusing on any of my ongoing fics the last day or two, so yesterday I decided to write some Onni/Bjarni fluff to get myself back into a writing mood. Except…it turned out to be a little bit of cuddling with a lot of talking. And it’s like 800 words long. But I’m not sure if I want to post it on AO3, since I haven’t finished my longer fic that actually explains these two getting together. So…I’m just going to put it here._
> 
>  
> 
> _(Small warning - there is talk about past Hotakainen trauma and mention of a panic attack.)_

CRASH! Something heavy struck the door.

“Take this! Get the others and go!” Grandma Hotakainen didn’t wait to see if he was following her command. She planted her feet and started chanting, eyes glowing blue.

Onni froze, clutching the rifle in a sweat-slick grip. He knew he should run, find Lalli and Tuuri and get them away safely. But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but watch helplessly as the door rattled on its hinges. Once. Twice. Wood splintered. Then  _it_  crashed through, and Grandma shouted his name—

“Onni!”

— _it_  reared up, lunging at Grandma—

“Onni!”

—the unearthly howling, the stench of blood and rot—

“Onni! Wake up!”

 

Onni jerked upright. He sucked in a ragged breath, coughed it out, and inhaled again. Cold sweat drenched him. Slowly, reality surfaced to drive away the dream. A dark room, a bed—not a child-sized one like he’d hauled Lalli and Tuuri out of all those years ago, but a proper adult bed. No Grandma, but no nightmare giant, either. And someone running a warm hand from his neck down to the middle of his back, making slow circles on his skin.  A soothing voice.

“Shhh. It’s all right. You were dreaming.” Not Finnish; Icelandic. Bjarni.

“Oh, gods. I’m so sorry.” He slumped forward, burying his face in his hands.

“What for?” Bjarni shifted closer and reached up to brush damp strands of hair away from Onni’s forehead.

“Waking you up. Was I thrashing this time? Shouting?”

“Moaning, mostly. And crying.” He wiped a tear from Onni’s cheek. “You were starting to thrash a little, that’s why I woke you. Which dream was it?”

Onni heaved a shuddering sigh. “The one with Grandma. I just  _stood there_ , and watched—”

“But that’s not what really happened, right?” Bjarni placed a cautious hand on his shoulder, and when he didn’t shrug it off, tugged him closer. Onni allowed it. It was what he wanted anyway, to rest his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder and let the tension leach out of him. He forgot, sometimes, that he could do that. Could ask for comfort, and be comforted without having to ask.

“No. I ran. I took the gun, and I left her to face that  _thing_ alone.” The passage of time didn’t matter—guilt still cut him when he thought about it.

“You got your sister and cousin out. You lived.” Bjarni’s breath ruffled his hair. “And I for one am glad you did.”

They lapsed into silence for a while. When Bjarni sank back onto the mattress and pulled Onni with him, Onni didn’t resist. He listened to Bjarni’s breathing, letting the rise and fall of his chest ground him in reality.  _It was just a dream._

After a time, he said, “I am sorry, though. Coddling me through my nightmares isn’t the most restful way to spend your shore leave.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Bjarni stroked Onni’s hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You aren’t the only one who has bad dreams, remember? How many times have you held me after one of mine?” He pulled back a little to look Onni in the eyes. The dim light made it hard to see his expression, but there was a suggestion of his usual wry grin. “Come to that, how often have you helped me through my trauma when I was  _awake?_  Remember your cousin’s wedding?”

Onni snorted. “Your panic attack saved me from hours of mindless small talk and awkward dancing. I hardly call that an inconvenience.” That had been his first glimpse into the darker parts of Bjarni, the man beneath the flashy smiles and exuberant affection. Not that Onni didn’t love Bjarni’s public face—he did. But up until then, he’d thought he was the only one who was broken.

“All I’m saying is, you don’t have to apologize for this.” Bjarni said. He brought his face close. “If you’re going to have nightmares, I want to be here for you. Admit it, the aftermath is way more fun when I’m around, right?”

“Fun?” It wasn’t the word he’d use.

Bjarni laughed, lips close enough to tickle Onni’s. “Yeah. Not the dreams, but this part. Can I?”

“Mmm. Fine.” Despite the way the words came out—grumpy, resigned—he welcomed the kiss that followed.

“It is better when you’re here,” he admitted, eventually. The first hint of sunrise crept through the window, and Onni knew he probably looked like a mess: swollen lips, eyes red from crying or lack of sleep. But his heart felt lighter. “Thank you. I—”  _Love you_. The words wouldn’t come out. He was getting better at the casual touches, at having a shoulder to cry on, but it was a long, slow process.

Fortunately, Bjarni was getting pretty good at reading his silences. “I know,” he whispered. “I love you too.”


	11. Now That You're Here (Hannu/Ville)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story and the next one were both originally posted to Tumblr under the heading "Chicken Soup For Your SSSSouls" because my friends Yuuago and Jureeya were both sick and miserable. This one was written for Yuu.

**_In which Hannu has a cold and Ville wants to help_ **

“A-choo! Ugh, this is the worst!” Hannu tore another fistful of tissues from the box and buried his raw nose in the folds. He let out a noise like a dying goose. “Ville, you’re gonna have to tell Jouko I can’t come to work today.”

Ville hovered by the door, clutching his coat. “Are you sure you want me to go? What if you need something? I should stay here to take care of you!”

Hannu shook his head; a mistake, as it turned out, because the motion made his head spin. “I’ll be fine. I just need to stay here and rest, that’s all.”

The assurance did nothing to alleviate the worry in Ville’s eyes, but he donned his coat and turned the doorknob. “Okay. But if you need anything, call me! I hate the thought of you lying here sick, all by yourself…”

“Go on, get out of here!” Further protests were drowned out by a coughing fit. When Hannu could breathe again, he added, “You’ll be late.”

Ville heaved a sigh. “I’m going. But I’ll worry about you all day, you know.”

“I know,” Hannu said. He was too exhausted to argue anymore. The door closed behind Ville with a soft snick, and in the quiet Hannu could hear his own ragged breathing too clearly.  _Gods. Just let me die already._  The gods ignored him, as usual, so there was nothing for it but to pull the blanket over his head and try to sleep. As his eyes closed, Hannu felt a little twinge of regret at sending Ville away. _It would be nice to have him around to get things for me. Or…just to have him here. No, that’s stupid, I’m being selfish. He’ll come back. I can…see him…then_. Sleep claimed Hannu then, bringing restless fragments of dreams.

“Hannu? Are you awake?”

It took a minute for Hannu to pry his eyes open, and longer than that to make sense of what he saw. “Ville? I thought you just left for work.”

Ville brushed a strand of hair from Hannu’s forehead. “That was hours ago. I told Jouko how sick you are, so he let me come home early. Oh, and look, I got some things to help you!” Ville reached into the bag beside him. “Riikka gave me a thermos of hot soup, and Paju sent some tea that she says will make you feel better in no time. Oh, and I brought some buns from the bakery too; the twins ‘accidentally’ burned them.”

Hannu felt a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with congestion. “You got all of this for me?”

“It’s not too much, is it? I know you just wanted to be left alone, but…”

“No, it’s okay.” Hannu leaned forward until his forehead rested on Ville’s shoulder. “I’m sure it will help. And…I’m glad you’re here.”

Ville smiled and wrapped his arm around Hannu’s shoulders. “Good. Now how about some soup?”

“Soup sounds good,” Hannu said. He still felt awful–and he was probably going to feel worse in a few days, when Ville caught whatever he had–but for now, it was nice to sit back and let Ville fuss over him.  _I’ve definitely felt better, but…with Ville here, it’s not so bad._


	12. Fever Dreams (Reynir/Sigrun)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with the previous chapter, this was originally posted to Tumblr to cheer up my friends Jureeya and Yuuago when they were sick. This one is only vaguely shippy, but since it was written for Jureeya who shipped these two, I decided to leave it in the shippy collection.

_**In which Sigrun has to take a day off and Reynir watches over her.** _

Sigrun jabbed her finger into Mikkel’s chest. “This is mutiny! You’re officially back on the list, you big—” a sudden wave of dizziness overtook her, and her accusatory finger turned into a desperate grab at Mikkel’s jacket to keep her upright.

Mikkel sighed and caught her by the shoulders. “Sigrun. It is not mutiny to insist that you stay in bed today. The books can wait. The trolls can wait. You have a fever and a cough, and it’s sheer luck your wounds aren’t infected. As the medic, it would be mutiny if I didn’t make you stay in the tank today.”

Sigrun opened her mouth to protest, but all that came out was an explosion of coughing. While she struggled to breathe– _stupid cough, I’m gonna fight you_ –Mikkel propelled her back to the bunk room.

“Emil and Lalli will be fine, they’re just going out to hunt for some fresh meat. I’m going to start the laundry and mending while Tuuri reports back to the base. Reynir,” he waved a hand at the Icelander hovering by the door, “will be here in case you need anything.”

This time she managed to get her objection out. “Freckles? He can’t even understand me! This is the worst idea ever!” Still, she allowed Mikkel to steer her onto a bunk and sit her down. It couldn’t hurt to rest for just a minute, right? She’d be back on her feet and fit to fight trolls by the time Mikkel got distracted with the laundry and couldn’t stop her. She’d play along for now.

“Fine,” she grumbled, “but you’re still on the list.”

Mikkel sighed, said something to Reynir in Icelandic, and left.

Sigrun slumped on the bunk and coughed into her uninjured arm.  _Right. Just have to wait for the mutineer to get distracted. Then off to catch up with my right-hand warrior and Twig._  Since there was nothing else to do, she turned to stare at Reynir. He sat on the floor with his arms on his knees, all of his attention focused on her.

“Look, kid, I’m sure this is high-quality entertainment compared to watching sheep, but do you mind not staring? I’m not going anywhere.” She paused, then added, “Yet.”

Reynir perked up at her voice, but his excitement visibly dimmed when he realized she wasn’t asking for anything. He ventured a question, which Sigrun ignored.  _Sorry, Freckles. No time to play charades. Gotta get back out there. Gonna fight some trolls. Just…have to wait…for Mikkel…_  The kid’s face blurred around the edges, then his braid swallowed him up and turned into a shadow.

Shadows nibbled at Sigrun too, but she fought them off. Of course she did. She was the most best. She had trolls to kill, a team to lead, and a mutinous medic to deal with. Shadows were nothing.

So when the kid with the long red braid slipped between the shadows and crouched in front of her, Sigrun pulled her knife on him. “Get out of here, Freckles! Can’t you see I’m busy fighting off these shadows?”

Reynir frowned. “Well…yeah, but your knife isn’t doing anything. They keep coming back.”

“What? Don’t be stupid, they’re clearly—” she looked, and saw that he was right; the shadows were still there. “Well, it’s not like they’re hurting anyone. Not worth my time, I have bigger things to fight.” She set off to find some trolls to kill instead.

“Uh…okay, but aren’t you a little curious about where we are? Or why you can understand me? We didn’t actually leave the tank, you know,” Reynir said. He hurried after her. Probably a good idea; she could keep him safe from the trolls.

“Nah, I don’t really care. Now are you going to help, or do I have to kill all these trolls by myself?” She was killing them as fast as she could, but her arm was getting tired. Even so, it was annoying when Reynir grabbed her wrist and kept her from stabbing a giant right in the eye. “Hey!”

“Sigrun…I don’t know what you’re seeing, but this isn’t real. It’s barely a real dream, you’re seeing things I can’t see! I…I don’t know what to do, but we probably shouldn’t be here. Can you…maybe wake up?”

Wow. Even when they spoke the same language, he didn’t make any sense. “Look, I get that you’re scared, but trust me. I can handle this. We can fight them off, we can—” Oh great, now Freckles was hugging her. And still talking.

“Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up…”

_Ugh. Fine. Anything to get you to stop freaking out._ Sigrun sheathed her knife and closed her eyes.

Sigrun opened her eyes. “Hnnng. What kind of messed-up dream was…”

_“You woke up!”_  The Icelander was still there, still babbling at her. She couldn’t understand the words coming out of his mouth anymore, but he seemed pretty happy about something.

“Calm down, Freckles. I’m fine. I’ve faced worse things than weird dreams.”

Reynir grinned ear to ear and carried on as though she hadn’t spoken. He wiped her forehead with a cool cloth and tucked blankets around her, chattering all the while. His noise must have gotten Mikkel’s attention, because the medic’s face appeared in the doorway. “Oh, you’re awake.” He listened to the stream of Icelandic for a moment, then added, “Reynir says your fever broke. That’s good; it should help with the rest of the healing. I’ll get you some food, you slept through lunch.”

_Lunch? Hmph. So much for getting anything done today._  Sigrun growled under her breath and let her head sink into the pillow.

_“I know, you want to go fight. It’s okay, you’ll be better soon.”_  This bit of incomprehensible jabber came with careful pat on the head, and the gentle pressure of his hand squeezing hers. Sigrun rolled her eyes, but decided to let it pass. There would be plenty of time to remind the kid who was in charge later, when she’d dealt with the mutiny in her lungs.

“Yes, yes, everything’s fine. You really didn’t need to worry, I had it all under control. I am the most best troll hunter, remember?”

_“You should be more careful in your dreams, sometimes they really come true!”_

“And it’s stupid to keep babbling, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

_“I’m just glad you aren’t in that weird dream place anymore. I guess I should stop talking and let you rest, huh?”_

“Just…going to close my eyes for a minute. Not sleeping, just taking it easy.” She knew she was lying even as she spoke; sleep was calling her, real sleep without fever dreams. Probably for the best. She’d be back to killing trolls tomorrow, at this rate. As she drifted off, she couldn’t help noticing that Reynir was still holding her hand.


End file.
